“I can’t bear to see her so affected and perked up.”
“It is not affectation. She is really more gentle and quiet than you are; you don’t think it so in your Mamma, and she is like her.”
“Mamma is not like Bessie.”
“And then about Davy. How could you go and stop the poor little boy when he was trying to think and feel rightly?”
“He was so funny,” repeated Sam.
“I hope you will think another time whether your fun is safe and kind.”
“One can’t be so particular,” he said impatiently.
“I am sorry to hear it. I thought the only way to do right was to be particular.”
He grunted, and flung away from her. She was vexed to have sent him off in such a mood; but, unmannerly as he was, she saw so much good in him, that she could not but hope he would be her friend and ally.
Dinner went off very peaceably, and then Susan fetched her two darlings from the nursery, George and Sarah, of three years and eighteen months old. Her great perfection was as a motherly elder sister; and even Sam was gentle to these little things, and played with them very nicely.